Adaptation
by Raggazzed12
Summary: Magnus has had to adapt to a lot of things over the years. But perhaps this is the one thing he will never, ever, adapt to. *QUITE ANGSTY AND MALEC FEELS YAY*
**A/N: Before I begin I must give you a warning: Angst and feels are ahead. You have been warned. I can't actually believe this is the first Malec fic I will ever publish on this website and have fully written (being a one-shot) because in most circumstances this kind of scenario is usually something I avoid...but oh well. A Disclaimer: All original characters belong to Cassandra Clare, my own characters are, of course, my own. Also, I have no idea what happens in this case of this story in Clare's world but this is my interpretation of it (I haven't finished reading the books yet). The poem placed in the beginning and end of this story is also my own, I wrote it thinking of this story that I wanted to write and lovely Magnus, of course, in all of his glory and pain.**

 _The king has lost his glamour,_

 _The glitter he once wore._

 _Time and time he acts to see what was at his door_

 _The fallen one is lost forever,_

 _and he finds himself to blame,_

 _For never has there been another_

 _That could so speak his name._

Passing quickly through the doors of the Institute, he spoke no word to the people he passed on the front steps. Everyone was preparing for a battle he had already done all he could to help with. Now he could only wait for the news of what would happen. After all, as they'd wanted his help, it was only mandatory that he let them be afterward. A redheaded woman in her early 20s ran up to him suddenly, eyes flickering on his face, grabbing him before he could leave.

"Magnus, you're…not staying?" She seemed hesitant.

"Alicia, if I were to stay, what help do you think I could provide you? I have done all that you asked for. If you want me to do anything else, I'll provide the aid you need immediately, but currently, I am quite caught up in other things with a few clients." A bit more forcibly than he'd intended, but it did the job to let her drop her hand.

"I just thought that you'd help out some more with the injuries that might…happen." She gulped a tiny bit.

"Your grandmother taught you too much about my talents, didn't she?" Magnus chuckled, shaking his head. "I'll be around. Call if you need it. You know very well how I work."

With that, he left Alicia Fairchild on the steps and walked swiftly away, not too sure of where he was going himself. If anything, the Shadowhunter's needs to have him helping them so much was beginning to affect his daily schedule. They of course used the excuse that Downworlders were more "accepted" nowadays and they were paying him, but it wasn't much and nothing was helping any of what went on in his mind constantly. It was all rushed thoughts, it had never been this before years ago, but it had been for so long he was surprised he hadn't gotten used to it. But then again, it was part of his life now, and adaptation was part of his life.

Back in the peacefulness of the loft, Magnus flopped down into a chair in the most graceful way he possibly could, and stared out the window at the city lights and the various things that made the city what it was. Mundanes certainly were strange, but their technology had also improved on a miraculous level. It seemed the rest of his world was catching up, as it always did, in fact was still in front of Mundane technology, but sometimes it felt like both worlds were going to collide. That was feeling he'd grown used to in the last hundred years. It was a feeling that happened far too often, simply because everyone was always headed in the same direction, the world always was.

And whatever went on with the battle between those demons and the Shadowhunters tonight determined more than what he figured anyone was ready to adapt to. A funny thing, adapting. It was always part of his life. Being a near 900 year old warlock, maybe that was to be expected, but after seeing so many generations come to this world and then go, he was wondering if everyone else went through this adaptation thing. Certainly, the other Downworlders felt this too.

Three knocks suddenly came at his door, and he stood up, feeling a little reluctant to allow anyone in right now. It was Simon, standing there with a small smile on his face, but he looked just as weary as Magnus felt.

"You're not fighting?" He raised an eyebrow at the vampire.

"Raphael wanted us to stay out of this one." Simon shrugged, looking downcast.

"Come in."

The other walked in and sat down after Magnus did, right on the edge of his seat, as the warlock observed. He appeared to be nervous.

"Have you been down there recently?"

"I was just helping out with their procedures." Magnus answered, then realized Simon hadn't meant the Institute, and stiffened slightly, a pang going through his chest. "That was…a week ago."

"I went just yesterday. You didn't take any…flowers?"

"Oh, I did…and a few other things as well." The shrug was small, he was feeling just as down talking about this as Simon did.

"They'd be glad to know you haven't forgotten. That we haven't. And I mean…all of them." Simon sighed a little bit.

"I do believe that everyone who fights tonight will have more reasons than us to go there soon. I just hope it's not Alicia. With two kids, I don't think she could ever let them go like that." Magnus shook his head, pain still being clenched in his chest.

"Really this is why I came. I guess I was also wondering if you wanted to go to a bar or something tomorrow evening?"

"Alright." Magnus Bane stood up, and Simon stood with him. "If you can, please try and convince Raphael that they need to help. It's dire. I do believe this will be a lost battle."

No sooner was the vampire out of his loft that he gave up on relaxing and went over to the kitchen, fixing himself a drink while staring at the picture up in the corner of the sink. Pictures were something he hated, but it had been something he'd been threatened with. It was sort of silly, because Magnus could very well mentally picture each one in that photo, especially the person he was holding in his arm. Tonight was maybe tougher than others.

Battles made it often come back, all of the rush of the screaming and the pain once more, the burning and the shouting. That one evening that had changed everything, the change that had caused his life to change entirely. For years, that type of thing had been avoided to the point where Magnus believed that they'd avoid it forever. So what if there hadn't been a proclaimed relationship anymore? It was still there, always would be.

With what was going to happen that very night, with demons of all shapes and sizes simply because of one misunderstanding, which was how it always went down and was, he was afraid for those who would lose someone tonight. He always was, it was weird now that he'd grown used to it and was used to feeling scared for all of them, for Magnus had never felt like that _before_.

The howls of werewolves from far away suddenly hit his ears, and he knew it was werewolves. Somewhere far off a scream was heard; it had begun. It was amazing how close it was to his place for once. And instead of staying put, he suddenly had the urge to go where he hated going but loved at the same time, and grabbed the photo off the shelf where he'd been standing staring at it from his position next to the counter. With great purpose, Magnus quickly made his way out of the loft, locking it with a flick of his hand behind him and heading on out.

Down the streets he made his way, hearing the shouts and screams from a long distance off. It was in a park, he could tell, not near the Institute, thankfully. That was where he needed to jump into the Portal, because if anyone saw him they might try and stop him. Even if Magnus was accepted now in Idris, he still didn't want to attract attention. Attention, as Magnus Bane knew it, never meant well if you were in the middle of a battle.

Mere minutes later, he was rushing down the streets of Idris, clenching the photograph in his hand and cursing at himself for having tears go down his face silently. After all these years he still hated the walk to the small area, and it wasn't helping that he'd been listening to screams and shouts for a little bit there. Upon arrival at the holy ground as they called it, he stood for a moment, staring at the numerous headstones that lined the ground. It was daring, of course, to come here now.

There was the line of stones that he dreaded each time he came, which held names of an entire family, and three others nearby. He approached the group of five that sat with the youngest member listed first. As usual, he read them in order, going down the row because that's what he felt paid the most tribute even if he didn't like the entire family. A Downworlder in here still wasn't viewed as normal. But after all, what was normal anymore?

After making his way through the others, he came to the second-to-last headstone and placed the photograph on top of it, uttering a small enchantment that would keep the picture from being weathered away or even able to take it away period, now glued to that headstone forever. Just as he would look at that headstone forever.

"You'd think it was too soon to come back after only a week, wouldn't you?" He never talked so quietly, or so gently. "I couldn't find the courage to not come when I realized the stupidity but simplicity of this picture. Oh, Alexander, if only you were helping out at that battlefield still…"

"30 years pass and you're still here. Funny, isn't it?" A voice spoke from behind him, and Magnus didn't need to turn around to see who it was. Of course Fell would randomly appear at this point of time, as he tended to off and on through the years. "You'd think you might've gotten over a Shadowhunter by now. But I'm glad you found the one, Magnus Bane. It was a remarkable time in your immortal life, do you not agree?"

"I suppose I can't argue with you, Fell." He shook his head a bit, but didn't look up still, only staring at the white headstone with the familiar pain throbbing still.

"You came because of that battle tonight, didn't you? I knew things like that triggered you." The spirit moved over to stand next to him now, watching him with soft eyes.

"Yes; they always do."

The memory that he'd been pushing back for the last hour came back to him now in full force and he closed his eyes against it, watching the all-too-familiar scenes flash in front of him. Alec screaming for his back up as a demon approached him and prepared to stab the Shadowhunter through the head. Magnus had hit that one full force, but he wasn't so lucky the next time. The older Alec got, the more Magnus felt like he had to care for the other.

As the battle had raged on around him, there was the one clear moment of despair and panic that he remembered, the instant when Alec was hit in the back with a different demon's teeth. So many things could have prevented it-and the next memory was of the dark haired man dying in his arms. Perhaps they had given it all up, but at that moment in time, Magnus had realized nothing was ever going to be the same. Alexander was gone, and he was once more alone. Perhaps it wasn't the first time, but he didn't ever want it to be the last.

Opening his eyes again, he saw that Ragnor was gone, and he was once more alone at the grave.

"I loved you, Alexander Lightwood, and I still do, and with the way life has played out…always will." He stood up with a soft sigh, looking around at the other graves, the one where Jocelyn Fairchild was commemorated, and the joint gravestone that Clary and Jace shared. And slowly, he backed away, eyes still weeping.

Yes, Ragnor Fell was correct in saying that perhaps 30 years was a long time, but he knew also that it was something quite different than just that. Pain had never lasted this long before, and he couldn't or wasn't sure he'd ever get over it. And he decided that indeed, that was something, something he, Magnus Bane, could deal with.

 _And through and through the rushes red,_

 _There he stands alone,_

 _questioning what he has said,_

 _to make him his own._

 _For what fell and has befallen,_

 _proves worse than what was before;_

 _Before the pain in his core._


End file.
